


Dean - 12

by phantisma



Series: Ages [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-12
Updated: 2006-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean is 12, John goes on a hunt, and Sam gets sick.  Really sick and Dean has to make a decision.  Take him to the hospital and risk everything, or wait and see if he gets better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean - 12

He was twelve when it happened, when his father left for a simple hunt, left him with Sammy in some dingy motel room, and Sam sick, and there was cough syrup and Tylenol, but it wasn’t enough. He was supposed to be back by midnight, but when it was nearly midnight a second time since he left, Dean had already gone past worried.

Sam’s fever kept climbing and Dean had already given him the last of the Tylenol. When it reached 104, he knew he had to do something. Dean stood in the door of the motel room and bit his lip and tried to think. There was a hospital a few blocks away. If he could get Sam on his feet…Dean shook his head.

If he took Sam to the hospital, he risked everything. A twelve year old bringing in an 8 year old in the middle of the night with no parents and as sick as he was, they’d have social services down on them before Dean could even steal tongue depressors.

“Dean?” Sammy’s voice was small and weak and shaking. Dean turned back to look at him. His face was so white even against the white of the pillow.

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m right here.”

“Hot.”

Dean sat beside him on the bed and reached for the washcloth on Sam’s forehead, dipping it in the ice water on the bedside table. “I know Sammy.” He wrung out the cloth and wiped it over his brother’s sweaty face. “You think you can walk?”

Sam’s eyes were wide with fear. “Why?”

“We have to get you some help Sammy. Dad’s…you know how sometimes these hunts take longer.”

“Is he okay?

Dean smiled for Sam, despite the fear inside him. “Yeah, Sam. I’m sure he’s fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Just give me more medicine. I’ll be fine.” He shifted, trying to sit up to prove his point, but started coughing. Dean reached for him, though there wasn’t much he could do until the fit passed.

“No more medicine, Sam.” Dean whispered as Sam fell back against the pillows, weakened even further. Dean stood and paced away, then dug a hand into his pocket. He had all of six dollars, hustled from a bunch of kids and meant to buy Sam a present for his birthday. It was enough to get them the couple of blocks to the hospital.

Dean reached for the phone book and found the number for the local cab company. “Ten minutes Sam. They’ll be here in ten minutes. Let’s get some shoes on your feet.”

“Where are we going?”

Dean didn’t look at him as he maneuvered his shoes on over the feet of Sam’s pajamas. “Hospital Sam.”

“No!” The little word was filled with anguish, and Dean didn’t know how much was just a fear of doctors and the scariness that was an ER…and how much his brother recognized the dangers that went beyond his fever. The emergency was reserved for when the bleeding didn’t stop.

“Yes Sam. It’s bad. It’s really bad.”

Dean smothered his own cough and went to write a note to leave for their father in case he came back. When he saw the cab pull up through the open door, Dean waved to the driver and went to help Sam up. He was light, like he wasn’t really there and Dean made a grab for the room key as they passed the table, shoving it into his back pocket.

The cab driver saw that he had his hands full and got out to help Dean with the car door. “He looks really sick.”

Dean only nodded and prodded Sam into the back seat. “Please take us to the hospital.”

“Where are your parents?”

Dean settled into the seat and let Sam lay with his head in his lap. “They’re meeting us there.” His heart was thundering in his chest and he prayed his father would come roaring into the motel parking lot before they pulled out.

Dean’s fingers stroked over Sam’s face and forehead, worrying over the heat his little body was putting out. He dropped his head back against the car seat and closed his eyes. His father was never going to forgive him for this.

The cab pulled up in the circular drive of the ER and Dean sighed heavily. “You need help with—“

“No, I’ve got him.” Dean cut him off, opening the door and tugging on Sam. “Come on Sam.” His brother moaned and stirred, and Dean tugged on him until he got his feet on the ground. Dean pulled out the five dollars the fare meter showed they owed and dropped it through the window. “Thanks.”

He hauled Sam to his feet, but it was obvious his brother was done with walking. “Okay, Sam, I’ve got you.” He braced himself and put his hands around Sam’s waist, lifting him up. Sam wrapped his legs around his back and his whole upper body just fell against Dean. He managed to close the cab door and turned to stagger into the ER.

The place was bustling, people everywhere, some with obvious trauma, others that didn’t look as bad. Dean struggled through the waiting area and up to the desk. “Excuse me?”

The nurse at the desk smiled at him, but the smile dimmed as she took in Sam’s form draped over him. “Can I help you?”

“Its my brother. He’s really sick.”

She reached out to touch Sam’s back. “He’s burning up.”

Dean nodded. “It was 104, but that was a while ago. He’s hotter. He feels hotter now.” He swallowed and shifted. “Sam?” Sam’s head lolled to the side. “Sam, come on.”

She was waving someone over. “This is Dr. Galiano. He’s going to take a look at your brother, okay?”

Dean eyed the man suspiciously. He was older than his father, his dark hair shot with gray, but he had a nice smile. He nodded, and let the doctor lift Sam from him. “His name is Sam?”

Dean nodded, blinking back tears. “Yes. Sam.”

“I’m just going to take Sam into that room, right there, okay?” He pointed and Dean’s eyes followed his finger, then blinked back to the doctor. “Nancy here is going to get some information from you, then you can come in with us.” Dean hated the looks they shared as the doctor moved away. He knew what they meant, knew they meant trouble for him and his family. He swallowed the stabbing pain and looked back to the nurse.

“What’s your name?”

“Dean.”

“How old are you Dean?”

“Thirteen.” It wasn’t true…it was close to true though, and thirteen was old enough to baby sit your younger brother for a few hours while your father worked.

“How long has Sam been sick?”

Dean bit his lip. “A couple days. It didn’t get bad until last night.”

“Okay. Has he been getting any medicine?”

Dean nodded, his gaze flicked up to her face and away. “Yes. Tylenol every four hours. Cough syrup every six. Just like the bottles said.”

A hand brushed through his hair and he looked up again. She smiled. “You’re a good big brother Dean. When was his last dose?”

Dean chewed on his lip. His head hurt and he wanted to see his brother. “Two hours ago. It was the last…it wasn’t helping.”

“Its okay Dean. One last question. Where are your parents?”

His heart skipped. “My father…he had to work. The baby sitter is sick. He’ll be home any minute…I left a note. He’ll come for us.” He repeated it in his head over and over.

“Okay, let’s go see Sam.”

She held his hand like he was a child and took him into the room. Sam looked so small on the bed, his hair plastered to his head with sweat. There was an IV sticking out of his arm. The doctor saw them come in and came to put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You did the right thing bringing him in, Son. Your brother is very sick.”

Dean nodded and no amount of blinking was going to banish the tears now. “I’ve got him hooked up with some antibiotics and were working on getting his fever down. You’re welcome to sit with him if you would like.”

Dean slipped his hand out of Nancy’s and crossed to the bed. His hand closed over Sam’s. “Don’t leave me Sammy,” he whispered as he laid his head down on the bed.

He could hear the adults behind him talking, heard his name passing from Nancy to Dr. Galiano. He tried to listen, but there were big words that made no sense to him. When Sam stirred, Dean stopped listening to them and smiled for his brother.

“Dean?”

“Right here, Sammy.”

“Don’t leave me again.”

Dean didn’t even care that Sam could see him crying. “Never Sammy.”

Sam nodded and closed his eyes again. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Sam was going to be okay. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get them out of the hospital again once Sam was stabilized.

There was a hand on his shoulder and Dean looked up to find Nancy there behind him. “How long has it been since you slept, Dean?”

Dean shook his head. “I’m not leaving him.”

She nodded, her face soft. She was pretty like that. “Okay. How about food? Are you hungry?”

Dean shook his head. “No. I just want to be with my brother.”

“I understand. I’ll just be out at the desk, if you decide you do need something.”

Dean turned back to the bed, frowning as the room seemed to shift under him. His hand slipped off Sam’s and he grabbed at the bed, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from falling to the floor. Nancy was instantly back at his side, her cool hands pressed against his face. “Dean, you’ve got a fever too. How long have you been sick?”

“Not sick. Need to help Sam.”

He tried to get up, but she pushed him back to the floor. “No. Stay down. Dr. Galiano!”

The doctor reappeared at the door and joined Nancy as soon as he saw Dean on the ground. “What happened?”

Nancy smiled down at Dean. “Our heroic older brother here appears to have the same infection his brother does.”

“I’m fine.” Dean said, struggling now to get up.

“Okay, let’s get him into an exam room and—“

“No, I’m not leaving him!” Dean struggled up. “He’s my responsibility. I take care of him. He needs me.”

Dr. Galiano touched his shoulder. “Okay, Dean, okay. Nancy, let’s get a second bed in here for Dean, okay?” She nodded and left the room. “Dean, I need to listen to your chest.” He held up the stethoscope and Dean nodded. After listening to his heart and lungs, the doctor nodded. “We’re going to run some tests, and get you some medicine, Dean.”

Nancy was back with an orderly pushing in a second bed. “Everything is going to be fine. Dean. I promise.” As Dean let them lift him into the bed he wasn’t sure how much that promise was worth.

The next hours were a blur as Dean struggled against his body and the medicine they were pumping in to him to stay awake, watching Sam and looking for his father…trying to decide on the best way to escape, but eventually his exhaustion and the illness dragged him under.

People came and went as the fever raged, and Dean lost track of who they were or what they wanted, didn’t know what he said when they asked questions. That scared him. There were secrets to keep. He could see Sam on the other bed, heard him yelling when they tried to take him out of the room. His eyes opened to see Sam hanging on to his bed, felt Sam grab onto his hand, crawl up in the bed to lay beside him. “I’m okay,” Dean whispered and Sam laid his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“I’m staying.” Sam responded, though Dean wasn’t sure if it was to him or someone else in the room.

 

When he was next really aware of anything, it was Sam’s voice. He was talking to someone. Dean opened his eyes and looked around him. They were in a private room with a window and a door and it’s own bathroom. It was at least as nice as some of the motel rooms they’d slept in, and the sheets felt cleaner. Sam sat on the bed beside his and next to him was a round woman with glasses and a friendly smile.

“Sam?”

Sam turned to look at him, his eyes wide. A smile split his face and before Dean could say anything else, Sam was sitting next to him, his small hand stroking over Dean’s face. “Dean…I was so worried. You got so hot and you wouldn’t talk to me.”

Dean smiled weakly. “Now you know how I felt.” He glanced at the woman, then back to Sam. He didn’t want to ask the questions, but he needed to know. “Dad?”

Sam shook his head, his smile dimming. “How long?”

“Thirty six hours, Dean.” The woman answered, rising from her chair. “If you’re question is about how long the two of you have been here.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you ma’am.”

She nodded and smiled. “I was just talking to Sam here about what happened. He says he doesn’t remember much. Do you?”

Dean looked at Sam who shrugged minutely. _Good boy_ , Dean thought. “I’m sorry, who exactly are you?”

“My name is Susanne Waters.”

“Social Services?”

“Very astute young man.”

He cocked his head. “Who else would be in here asking us questions like that?” He could tell she wouldn’t be an easy person to con. His mind was already flipping through the easiest lies, trying to find one he could work with. “It isn’t all that,” he finally said with a sigh. “We’re in a tight spot, you know? We have a lady that usually takes care of us, but she was sick. Dad really had to go to work, or he’d lose his job. Sam was fine when he left.”

“And why hasn’t your father come to get you?”

Dean wondered that himself, but shrugged. “I don’t know, ma’am.”

“Okay. How about an address?”

Sam’s hand slipped into Dean’s, his face white. Dean closed his eyes and tried to find a way out. There just wasn’t one. “We don’t really have one. We’re new in town.”

She was standing right by the bed now, scribbling notes. “You must be staying somewhere.”

“Some motel.” Dean mumbled. His stomach churned. He was breaking a lot of rules. “Don’t remember the name.”

“Where does your father work?”

Dean shook his head. “He’s a mechanic. I don’t know…I’ve never been…” Sam was crying and Dean pulled him down to lay beside him, soothing his hair with one hand. “Maybe he’s hurt or something. He always comes home. Always.” Dean put as much fear into his voice as he could, watching for her to soften. It took longer than he expected, but it happened, that friendly smile returning, the hand with the pen descending to touch his.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Dean. We just need to find him. I’ll let you two rest, but I’ll be back.”

Thirty-six hours, and that was after his father was already twenty four hours late. He had visions of his father broken and bleeding and dying, never knowing what had happened.

“Where’s Dad, Dean?” Sammy asked, his voice muffled into the pillow.

“I don’t know, squirt.” Dean sighed.

“I’m scared.”

“Me too. But we’ll be fine. We’re Winchesters.”

“Winchesters.”

Dean hugged Sam to him. He knew this was probably their best opportunity at escape, while they still thought they were too weak…but the problem was, Dean was pretty sure he was too weak. Okay, so he needed to rest a little more. He could do that. In fact, it was frighteningly easy to do just that.

 

Three days later, Dean sat beside Sam in the back seat of Ms. Water’s car, having spent the last two nights in a juvenile facility that they insisted wasn’t a detention hall, but from which Dean had found no plausible way for them to get free. They were going to be put in foster care, which sounded at least easier to escape from.

When the car pulled up in front of a house with a large yard and long driveway, picket fence and the whole nine yards, Dean thought there must be a mistake. He knew about foster care. It was small, cramped houses with parents who were in it for the money and let the kids run rampant.

Ms. Waters held the door for them and Dean took Sam’s hand, holding him close. The door of the house opened and a young couple emerged. Dean guessed she wasn’t much more than 25 and he was only a little older. “Janet, George, thank you again.” Ms. Waters was saying as they approached, her hand out to shake. “We realize you really wanted younger children, but I’m sure you’ll see why we can’t split these two up right now.” She turned and gestured them closer. “This is Dean and his brother Sam. Boys, this is Janet and George Caplin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am, sir.” Dean said, putting on his best charm and finishing with a smile. “It certainly is kind of you to take us in like this.”

Janet smiled. “Quite the charmer. Welcome, Dean. We hope you’ll be happy here.” She turned to Sam, who pressed himself closer into Dean’s side. “You too Sam.”

“He’s shy.” Dean said, putting his arm around his quivering brother.

“So I can see. How about I take you boys inside and show you your rooms.” She held out her hand and Dean looked at it, then up at Ms. Waters. Reluctantly, he took it and let her lead him, and through him Sam, into the house and up the stairs. At the far end of the hall, past the master bedroom and the bathroom, she opened the door to a room dominated by a double bed and an old wooden desk. “Dean, this will be your room, and Sam—“

“He stays with me.” Dean said, a little harsher than he meant to. “I mean, you won’t pry him off me for a while anyway. It’s just easier. Unless you want to hear him cry…a lot.”

Janet looked hurt, and she shook her head. “No, of course. This is all so new for all of us. I want you to feel comfortable here…both of you. Now, Ms. Waters warned us that you only had the clothes on your backs, so we picked up a few things that should fit, and there are books on the shelf, linens in the closet. The bathroom is next door, fresh towels on the racks. When our daughter Jenny gets home from school, we’ll go out and get you two set up with school supplies. In the meantime, you two get comfortable. I need to go downstairs and finish up some paperwork.”

“Thank you.” Dean said, offering her a timid smile. When she was gone, he closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. “This might not be too bad, Sam. A good bed, a warm enough room, new clothes. I can think of worse places to wait for Dad.”

“He isn’t going to know where we are, Dean.”

Dean ruffled his brother’s hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to let him know. This is going to be just fine.”

“She’s going to make us go to school.” Sam whined and Dean rolled his eyes.

“You love school.”

“I also love not going to school.”

Dean yawned and decided the bed looked comfortable. “Let’s lay down for a bit, Sammy. I’m tired.”

“That’s cause you coughed all night.” Sam said, climbing up beside him to lay sideways across the bed.

“Whatever.”

“Dean?”

“What?”

“I don’t like it here. It’s too nice.”

Dean yawned again. “We won’t be here long, squirt. Get some rest.”

 

It was more than a week before Dean figured out where they were in comparison to the hotel, and another few days before he pieced together a bus schedule that would get him from the school to the hotel and back again between the time first period ended and Janet showed up in the minivan to take them all home.

“Now, remember Sammy, I might be late coming to get you, okay. Just wait for me by the swings.” Dean bent over to straighten Sam’s jeans and wipe at some dirt on his shirt. “Don’t get in trouble and wait by the swings.”

“You’re going to find Dad?”

Dean nodded. “Yes. And when I do, I’m coming back for you. Okay?”

Sam suddenly hugged him as if he was never going to see him again. “Don’t leave me Dean.”

Dean hugged him back, then released him. “I’m coming back. I promise.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…now, let’s get you into class before you’re late.”

Dean left Sam at the door of his class room, then raced across the school to get to his own first class. The hour seemed to crawl, and when the bell finally rang, Dean jumped in his seat. The class got up to file out and move to the music room. In the chaos, Dean managed to slip away into a side corridor where he hid in the bathroom until the noise died down, then set off quickly to the nearest exit. He had to run to catch the bus, and almost didn’t, then forgot to ask for a transfer and had to go back to the front.

It was going to take him three different buses to get there. By the time he did, he was a little nauseous from the ride and his legs shook as he stepped down out of the bus at the corner. He could see the navy blue of the hotel doors, and his hand slipped into his pocket for the key, thankful he had pulled the big blue tag that said “Sleep Well Motel” on it the day his father had given it to him.

He took the walk slow, watching around him as his father had taught him, watching for people that were watching him. He went around the back and up the other side to room 16, sliding the key in and holding his breath. The Impala wasn’t in the parking lot, but that didn’t always mean anything. The door opened and Dean stepped in out of the bright sunlight, closing the door behind him.

His eyes adjusted to the gloom slowly and when they had he nearly burst into tears. The room was empty, all of their gear was gone. Their father was gone. He had left them.

Dean couldn’t breathe, clutching the door as he doubled over, gagging against the fear. Thought came back sluggishly. If he had left under his own power, he’d have left a note, somewhere that the cleaning crew wouldn’t find it, someplace he knew Dean would look.

With a quick exhale, Dean stood up, his eyes circling the room. His father had commented on the bottom panel of the dresser that first night. It was loose. Dean crossed to it and dropped to the floor, pulling until it came loose in his hands. It was dark and dusty underneath, but he reached in and was rewarded with something that felt like a bag.

He pulled it to him, recognizing one of his father’s old hunting duffles, small, for quick trips. With shaking hands he opened it. There was a canister of salt and some lighter fluid, a gun and some ammo…and a note.

_Dean and Sam,_

_I am sorry I wasn’t here. Something has happened. It isn’t safe to be with me right now. You’re safer there. I will come for you soon. As soon as it’s safe. Take care of one another. Protect yourselves._

_Love you, Dad_

Dean growled, crushing the paper in his fist. Just like that he left them. They were alone. The clock ticked onto the hour and Dean flushed. He had no time to sit there and seethe. He had to get back to Sam…to the school…to his new life as a foster child in goddamn suburbia.

Dean tossed the note into the bag and zipped it shut, then shoved it into his back pack next to his math book. He checked through the window to make sure no one was going to see him come out of the room, then bolted, aiming directly for the bus stop. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he got caught with the gun on the bus or at the school, just concentrated on getting back.

Sam was expecting him to show up with Dad, to disappear the way they had so many times before. This was going to hurt.

Dean got to the school just as the last bell was ringing and bolted through the throngs of kids to get to the play yard where Sam was supposed to wait. He saw Sam searching the crowd and steeled himself. He got to Sam before Sam even knew he was there, dropping to his knee and reaching for him. “Dean! Did you find him?” His eyes were searching the people around them, then came back to Dean’s.

“No, Sammy. Listen. Dad left us orders. We can follow orders right?”

Sam’s eyes were filling with tears, but the word “orders” snapped him up. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Now Dad wants us to hang out here, with the Caplins He’s got a big job and this place is nicer than where he’s going. He wants us to keep and eye out though, okay? He says that job he did here, that ghost might have friends. He’s going to want a report when he gets back. Okay?”

Sam snuffled but nodded.

“Okay, let’s go find our ride home.”

Janet and Jenny were waiting by the minivan as they rounded the corner. “Sorry.” Dean said as they got in. “I forgot my math book and had to go back.”

“You okay Sam?” Jenny asked as Sam worked at the tears with the heel of his hand.

In a move that made Dean proud, Sammy smiled at her and pulled his hand away, pointing at his eye. “Bertie Lardon poked me in the eye.”

“Ow!”

“You okay Sam?” Janet asked, angling the rear view mirror to look at him.

“Yeah. It stings.”

“I’ll look at it when we get home.”

The rest of the ride was spent with Dean sulking and Sam and Jenny talking about some after school activity coming up. Dean was happy Sam got along with Jenny, who was only a few months younger than Sam. It made this whole thing easier. It didn’t hurt either that Janet and George were decent people who really seemed to care…and their room sure beat the hell out of the crappy motels they were used to.

Dean felt eyes on him and looked up. Janet smiled in the mirror, then turned her eyes back to the road. Dean sighed and squeezed his back pack, checking to make sure it was closed and his contraband wasn’t going to fall out.

“Homework, then chores.” Janet called as they piled out of the van and went running for their rooms.

Dean beat Sam to the room and pulled the hunting bag out of his back pack, his eyes scanning the room for a place to hide it…some place Janet wouldn’t find it while cleaning…some place Sam wouldn’t stumble across it. He settled on shoving it under the bed for now, turning as Sam caught up and threw himself into the room. “I have spelling.”

Dean smiled. “Want help?”

Sam smiled and nodded. “Give me your list.”

 

“Dean, could we talk to you?” George’s voice was soft, unassuming. Dean frowned as Sam followed Jenny up the stairs, but he turned back to the couch where Janet and George sat, hands comfortably tangled and resting on his knee.

“Sure.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, mostly so he wouldn’t fidget with them.

“We realize that you’re used to being on your own quite a bit.” George held up his hand when Dean opened his mouth to defend himself. “No, I’m not judging, Dean. I’m observing. Your behavior says that you’re used to taking care of yourself and Sam. I can appreciate that.”

“Actually, Dean, we think it’s really remarkable the way you look after Sam. Especially considering how old you are.” Janet added, her smile soft. “I had a big brother like you. He was my world.”

Dean studied them, uneasy, and unaccustomed to adults speaking to him like this. “So, we want to make a deal with you.” George said. “If you agree, I think we can make this work, even though we really only wanted one child for our first go at this foster parent thing.”

“What kind of deal?”

Janet took a deep breath and looked at George whose face got a little more serious. “We won’t treat you like a child, give you a little leeway, let you make decisions, let you keep taking care of Sam.”

Dean was really suspicious now and he even backed up a step. “What do you want from me?”

“Two things Dean.” Janet said. “Be honest with us, no matter what.”

Dean bit his lip. He didn’t like making promises he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep. “That’s one.”

“You have to agree to that before I tell you what the other is.”

Dean swallowed and nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

“The other is to let us take care of both of you a little too, okay?”

Dean thought Janet blinked away tears, and that her voice cracked just a little. This was easier, at least in theory. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Janet nodded and crossed her legs. “The school called today, Dean. You missed a few classes.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. He was busted. “Where were you?”

Dean was keenly aware that he had just… _just_ promised honesty. He chewed on his lip and shifted uneasily on his feet, his eyes on the carpet at his feet. “I—“ he sighed and closed his eyes. “I went looking for my father,” he said softly.

There was silence for a long time and eventually Dean looked up. It was George who spoke. “Did you find him?”

Dean shook his head, feeling the betrayal fresh in his gut. “No. He’s gone. He left.” His hands fisted at his side and he was shaking.

“Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry.” Janet said, suddenly off the couch and hugging him. He stiffened at first, but her sympathy felt so genuine and his rage and hurt was so fresh…and no one had held him like that in so long that he found himself snuffling and the tears just crashed out of him. She held him, stroking his back until it passed and he inhaled deeply to regain his manly space.

“Thank you for telling us.” George said. “You can go to bed.”

“I’m…not in trouble?”

George came to put a heavy hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s been a really hard few days for you boys, Dean. I think we can let this one slide. If it happens again there will be punishment. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir.” George smiled and his hand came off Dean’s shoulder to ruffle in his hair.

“Good. Get to bed.”

“Brush your teeth.” Janet called as he bounded up the stairs.

Dean sighed in relief as he climbed into bed beside Sam. For the first time since the frightened cab ride to the hospital, he let himself relax, just a little…and for the first time since coming to live in this strange suburban normal, he fell to sleep without thinking about escape.


End file.
